No Orphans Live Here (Revised)
by Willful Redhead
Summary: A difficult assignment in school, causes Guthrie to ask himself some difficult questions.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is literally the first piece of 7b7b I ever wrote. It was an idea that I had way back when the show was actually on, and when I discovered fanfiction, I immediately remembered it. Rereading it recently, I thought about all the things I would change. This is the updated piece. I appreciate any reviews and thoughts._

 **No Orphans Live Here**

 _-One-_

 **Guthrie McFadden** sat hunched over a blank piece of paper, a pencil in his fingers. He looked at the clock again. He had been staring at the blank page for what seemed like hours. He read the instructions at the top again. _Think about your own personal heritage. How have your parents influenced you? What qualities do you share? Where do your ideals and theirs differ? How do you bridge that gap? "_ Stupid assignment!" He said angrily to himself and tossing down the pencil he stormed downstairs. He wandered from room to room, frustrated and restless. He finally ended up in the kitchen where his sister-in-law, Hannah was working on dinner. He stood leaning in the doorway watching her, and then wandered over to the refrigerator. He poured himself a glass of milk and stared absently out the window into the grey November sky.

"Something wrong?" Hannah asked him, her soft hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

"Nope." He said quickly, unnerved by the way she always seemed to know what he was thinking.

"Hmmm . . ." She said studying him thoughtfully. But she began to cough and then went to the sink to wash her hands.

"You okay?" He asked, worried.

"Oh, I'm fine." She dismissed him. "Wanna peel potatoes for me?"

"Sure." He glanced toward his sister-in-law wondering, not for the first time, if she could read his thoughts. He sat down to work at the table. Hannah hummed as she worked and he found himself joining in, in spite of his grey mood. Music always made him feel better. So did Hannah.

***7***

 **Hannah McFadden** paused looking across the wreckage that had once been dinner. The aftermath of seven men eating a meal together never ceased to amaze her. She sighed and forced herself up to tackle the dinner dishes, trying to ignore the headache that pounded in her ears.

"Yeah, well, don't call me when it breaks down." Crane said to one of his brothers in the living room as he walked back into the kitchen. He immediately began to help clear the table.

"Wash or dry?" He asked his sister-in-law.

"I'll wash." She said with a smile squeezing his arm with her thanks.

"You feel okay?" He asked her. "You didn't eat much."

"Don't worry about me." She said. "Besides next to all of them, I never eat much! Did you see how much Ford and Evan ate tonight?"

Crane laughed. "You should have seen Adam when he was thirteen! Poor Mom was hard-pressed to keep him fed." He chuckled at the memory. "He and Brian once cleared out the entire fridge while she was at choir practice! Everything!"

Hannah tried to picture her husband and his younger brother as gangly teens eating endless amounts of food and driving their mother to distraction. She sighed, wearily, leaning against the counter.

"I just wanna double-check." Adam said to Brian as they walked into the kitchen.

She had planned on teasing them with the story that Crane had told her, but was caught in another fit of coughing.

"Honey, we're gonna go check on that steer. I don't like the way that leg . . ." He paused studying her. "You feel alright?"

"You look kind of pale." Brian said. "Doesn't she?" He turned toward his brother.

"Just a cold, I think." She said pushing Adam's hand away from her forehead. "I'm fine."

Since, the miscarriage they had all become twice as protective - watching over her. She appreciated it and could feel all the love behind it, but it made her nervous and self-conscious too. It reminded her.

"Daniel!" Crane shouted. "Get in here!"

"What?" Daniel asked irritated.

"You wash. I'll dry." Crane demanded. Turning to Hannah he said. "You can go lie down. We got this, don't we, Daniel?"

"Yeah, sure." Daniel shrugged and took the sponge from Hannah. "Don't worry, Mrs. McFadden, we got this."

"Thanks." She thought about arguing with them, but honestly she just felt so very tired. "I think I'll just rest for a little bit." She left the kitchen to head upstairs and Adam watched her, his brow furrowed with worry.

"She works too hard." Brian said. "I wish she would take it easy. She just jumped right back into everything. It's too soon."

"Yeah," Adam's jaw tightened with stress. "She . . ." He stopped himself and shaking his head said to Brian, "Come on, we better go."

***7***

 **Guthrie McFadden** hesitated just outside his oldest brother's room. He felt funny about stepping inside now that Hannah lived there. It used to be his room, too. Before Adam had married, Adam and Brian had shared the room. They had initially left the room untouched after their parent's deaths, but eventually, the oldest brothers had moved in bringing Guthrie, just a toddler with them. In a house tight with space, and heavy in brothers, living life three to a room was pretty normal. After Adam had brought Hannah home, He and Brian had moved downstairs. He stood in the doorway of the open door to the room, wondering if he should do something. He could hear Hannah coughing. It sounded terrible.

"You need something?" He asked quietly. "I'll bring you some water."

"Thank you." She said and then started coughing all over again. She lay in bed, her cheeks bright pink. Concerned, he went immediately downstairs.

"How's the homework, kid?" Crane asked from where he sat at the kitchen table going over the books.

"Hannah's really sick." He said as he poured a glass of water. "Her cough sounds bad. I think we should do something." He didn't stop to hear Crane's reaction but hurried upstairs with the glass.

"Here." He said handing it to her and sitting beside her on the bed. "Should I ride out and get Adam?"

"I'm okay, Guth." She said patting his hand, her low voice raspy. "It just sounds terrible."

"You take any aspirin?" Crane asked from the doorway. He was reading the label on a bottle of cough syrup.

"Before dinner." She said and looking at their worried faces, she smiled and added, "Hey, fellas, it is just a cold. Quit looking so worried. I'll take some of that cough syrup and sleep." She reached out and ruffed Guthrie's hair. "Go on and finish your homework."

"Ok." He hesitated. "You holler if you need something." He said and walked down the hall.

Hannah handed the medicine cup back to Crane. "Keep an eye on him. Something's bothering him. He's been mopey all day."

"Hannah, just rest, would ya." Crane said shaking his head at her.

She smiled at him, "I am." She closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. "See if he won't talk to you, Crane. I got a bad feeling about it. Something is really bothering him."

"He's probably just worried about you." Crane said softly. He turned out the lamp beside the bed and closed the door behind him.

When Adam had arrived home just a little over a year ago with Hannah beside him, they had all been in shock. They hadn't even known that Adam and Hannah had been dating when be brought her home, and announced that they had just gotten married.

"You got married?" He'd shouted at his older brother. "You didn't think to let us meet her first?" He couldn't believe that his brother had done something so completely unexpected and shocking.

They had been hard on her, mostly out of shock, but also out of genuine confusion. No woman had lived in the house in ten years. They hadn't known what to do or say around her. She threw all of them off their groove - upsetting the balance of the house. It wasn't that they didn't like her, but rather that they just didn't know what to do or say around her. She was unknown to them, and as unfamiliar as an alien. They couldn't seem to function normally around her - except for Guthrie. He'd loved her from the start, and it was partly watching her care for him with love and gentleness that had won them all over. Seeing her treat him with warm compassion had melted them all.

Guthrie had always been a unifying factor for the brothers. He was everyone's baby. Not quite two, when their parents died, he'd cried for his mother night after night. It had been unbearable. They had done the best they could, but it never seemed enough. They all agreed he deserved so much more than a pack of teenage brothers could offer. It was ten years later, watching Guthrie lean against Hannah at the kitchen sink, as they washed dishes together, that Crane realized that she was exactly what their baby brother needed; maybe what they all needed.

He wandered down the hall to his younger brothers' room. Ford was sitting on his bed reading and Evan was working on some math. Guthrie sat with a blank page in front of him staring out the window into the dark night.

"Need help, pal?" He asked him.

"No. I already finished my homework." Guthrie answered. "Is she okay? Maybe we should go get Adam."

Evan and Ford paused in their work, and looked up at him with questioning faces.

"Hannah's got a cold." He explained to them. "Don't worry, Guthrie. She's sleeping." He studied his youngest brother, feeling an uneasiness. Hannah was right, Guthrie seemed upset. "She'll be fine." He reassured them.

***7***

 **Hannah McFadden** awoke shivering. The room was pitch black and she stretched out her arm expecting to find her husband's familiar form, but the bed was empty. She struggled to sit up but was stopped by a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I'm right here." Adam said softly. He sat down beside her on the bed, straightening the covers around her.

"Wh . . .what time is it?"

"Uh," He glanced behind himself at the clock. "Eleven or so."

"You talk to Guthrie? He's not . . ."

"How about you lie back down and get some sleep, hon." He said, cutting her off.

"I'm worried about him."

"Well, I'm worried about you." He confessed. "Don't get me wrong, darlin', you are beautiful as always, but you don't look so good."

"Thanks."

"You feeling any better?" He leaned over, his lips brushing her forehead. "You are burning up!"

"It's just a cold, Adam." She responded, her voice low and raspy. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, I can see that." He shook his head at her. "I'm calling the doctor."

"This late?" She asked. "Why don't you just throw our savings in the fire? It can wait til morning."

"Sweetheart . . ." Adam hesitated.

"We still got that hospital bill . . ." She whispered.

"Stop, worrying about that!" He sighed and rubbed his face with his. "That doesn't matter, girl. I've told you that."

"We don't need another bill like that. I am fine."

Adam met her gaze, as he rubbed a gentle thumb along her cheek. "You are alive and I don't care about a bill for that." Her eyes filled with tears, and she turned away from him, wiping them.

"I'm fine. I just need another dose of medicine."

He sighed again. "Hannah, I don't like the way that cough sounds and your fever is pretty high."

"Things always seem worse at night. Can I have that medicine, please?" She raised an eyebrow at him, and he recognized that she would not be persuaded. This was Hannah at her most stubborn and independent, even illness couldn't hide her determined spirit. It was something he found irresistible; despite all the challenges she'd faced, she was still unbroken - a wild spirit.

"I think we ought . . ." He began half-heartedly, handing her the cough syrup.

"The morning is fine. It is just a bad cold, Adam. I'm alright." She swallowed the cough syrup and settled back into the pillows. "Promise you'll talk to Guthrie. I'm really worried."

"Yeah, me too." He moved closer and brushed the hair off her forehead. "You are one damn stubborn woman." He said. "If you die, I'll be mad as hell at you."

"I love you too." She said smiling at him and then launched into a powerful coughing fit that frightened him.

"Maybe we should . . ."

"No. " She said interrupting him. "Tomorrow's soon enough. Now, let me sleep." She lay back down and closed her eyes but reached for his hand. He sat beside her holding her soft fingers in his.

***7***

"I've been thinking about the essay I assigned." Mr. Whedon said to Guthrie as the classroom emptied out. "I was thinking that perhaps you should have an alternate assignment."

"Why?" Guthrie asked angrily looking out past his teacher into the gathering storm clouds outside.

"Well, the topic might be painful and I wouldn't . . ." It was clear the English teacher was uncomfortable.

"I don't need special treatment. I got it nearly finished." Guthrie lied, feeling an unexplainable rage storm up inside him.

"Oh, well, you are? I guess that's alright then. I just wanted to make sure it wasn't too . . ."

"Don't worry. It was a long time ago and nobody needs to treat me differently." Guthrie said and strode out of the room."

***7***

"Bronchitis." **Adam McFadden** said to his brothers after he'd returned home with Hannah. He had first immediately taken her upstairs and tucked her back into bed. When he came downstairs he found Brian and Crane pacing in the living room, and even he, tired as was, had to appreciate the way they had come to feel about his wife. "The doc said it is a pretty bad case of it. He gave her some strong medicine and said she needs to rest. Her immune system is still pretty weak from . . ." He swallowed unable to finish.

"She'll be fine." Brian said resting a hand on his older brother's shoulder. "Why don't you go lie down too. I don't think you slept last night." Adam nodded and disappeared back upstairs with his wife.

"He's gonna get sick too." Crane said. "I don't know. It seems like maybe they both . . ."

"Give it time. It's only been six weeks. She just needs rest and she'll be fine." Brian sighed.

When their parents had died, he had been just sixteen and Adam not quite eighteen. They had somehow managed to keep the family together - the two of them doing the best job they could. As much as they'd shouldered that burden together, it was Adam who was really in charge and responsible. Brian had his older brother for guidance and help, but Adam had no one. He wondered sometimes what their lives would've been like, if that truck hadn't careened off the road and into their parent's car. Adam had been about to leave for college and was hoping on medical school, when everything changed and he'd been forced to put every dream on hold.

They fell into a steady pattern of the ranch and the brothers first - above all else. And it seemed that it would stay that way forever. He figured Adam would live a solitary life; sacrificing everything for his brothers. And then he'd surprised them with a five foot four brunette powerhouse. She completely overturned their lives just as she had once overturned their table. She was fierce, independent and stubborn, but deeply devoted to Adam, the ranch and the family. Much as he hated change, Brian had to accept that some change was good. He recognized how very happy she made Adam, and how very much the brothers benefited from her presence - especially the little guys.

When she had announced to Adam, and a roomful of brothers she was pregnant, he had felt a tremendous joy. It was as if something inside him loosened a little, and for the first time in a decade it felt like the McFadden family was moving on. Adam seemed to de-age - as though all the hardened layers he'd built up over that decade of struggle were stripped away, and he was the young man he had been before the responsibility of raising his brothers had fallen on him. Brian couldn't remember a time when his older brother had seemed so joyful; so carefree which made the crushing blow of the miscarriage all the more cruel and unfair.

Adam had already lost enough in his life. They all had lost enough. Everyone had been sad. Everyone was worried about Hannah who returned from the hospital a quiet, subdued version of herself. Neither she, nor Adam spoke of it much. They returned to the same working ranch they'd left and so it was easy to claim they were too busy for rest or introspection. Still, the family had finally cornered the both of them, tagging their own agenda on the end of their weekly family business meeting.

"Hey, there's just one more thing." Brian had said, as Adam had risen to leave the living room after the meeting had ended.

"What?" Adam asked, sitting back down on the edge of the couch. Brian glanced over at Hannah who sat in the armchair across from her husband, the brothers scattered around the room, silent and anxious.

"We wanted to . . ."

Hannah rose up suddenly, "I better get super on and . . ."

"Hey," Brian said gently. "We don't mean harm." He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, meeting her dark blue eyes which were clouded with sorrow. She said nothing in response but say back down in the armchair.

"One mistake we've made in the past and we said we wouldn't keep making it," Crane said looking at Adam. "Is not talking about things that matter."

"Crane, don't . . ." Adam began.

"You said not talking about difficult things doesn't make it easier." Daniel pointed out. _"You_ said that."

"And," Brian hesitated willing himself to finish. "Losing, uh, losing the baby is difficult. We understand that." He glanced at Hannah who now covered her face with one hand. He felt suddenly sick and unsure. "But we wanted you to know that it is difficult for us, too."

"Hey, would ya stop she's . . ." Adam held out a hand indicating Hannah.

"She's _our_ sister," Daniel interrupted, "and we care about her. He turned toward Hannah. "You are and you are important to us."

"And we can manage things," Crane added. "We don't want you to feel like you have to jump back into anything. You can count on us to pick of the slack if you need some . . . if you need time."

Both Adam and Hannah were silent, she with her face hidden by her hand, and he with his jaw set in a firm line. Brian half-expected Adam to blow up, and was truly surprised that he remained where he was and didn't go to where she sat clearly struggling.

"This . . . we . . . I . . ." Adam attempted to speak, but was at a loss for words.

"Hey, brother," Crane said, laying a gentle hand on Adam's shoulder. "We got this. You don't have to say anything. That's maybe what we are trying to tell you. Do what's best for you, and for her," He indicated Hannah with a crisp nod. "You don't have to worry about us, or explain it to us. We got the rest of it covered."

Adam nodded, swallowing hard and drawing in a deep breath said, "Sweetheart?"

"I . . . I . . ." Her voice was soft, and muffled at first by her hand. Then, drawing in a deep breath herself, she dropped her hand from her face, wiped at her tears, sticking her chin out in brave defiance, "I appreciate it, fellas. I appreciate all you've done for me, but right now . . ." She paused thoughtfully. "Working feels better than stopping to think. It seems like . . ." She paused again, attempting to regain control. "It hurts too much, just now, you know?"

"Yeah," Brian agreed softly. "We do."

He could easily remember dark days when he and Adam threw themselves relentlessly into the work in front of them - anything other than face the searing pain of knowing their parents were forever lost.

"But . . ." Crane began before Adam cut him off sharply.

"You said this is about telling us that we can have what we need. She just told you. She needs you to let her be."

"You are right." Crane agreed quickly. "I'm sorry, Hannah. I just . . . I just want to fix things."

"Some things can't be fixed." She said softly, and then slowly glancing around the room at all the brothers added, "But I do appreciate how much you want to. I do."

At the end of it all, Brian had felt somewhat defeated. He supposed like Crane, he had wanted to have the meeting and heal all of Adam and Hannah's hurts in one fell swoop. He knew better than that, and he felt stupid for even trying. Some hurts lay buried so deep in your heart that they became part of it.

Still, he knew it was right that they had at least said _something_. At least she knew how much they wanted to set things right. At least both Adam and Hannah knew their brothers would be there for them. There was a saddness to the house that hadn't been there in years, and certainly not since she had come into the house. It was underneath everything else; a shadow. At night just as he would drift off to sleep, he would be swept into the memory of Adam falling into his arms so overcome with gratefulness that Hannah had survived that he couldn't even stand. It shook him to his core, and reminded him again, that life was a very fragile thing, and loving people the most dangerous choice of all.

***7***

It was just an hour after Adam and Hannah's return from the doctor, that Ford, Evan and Guthrie rushed in, slamming the front door behind them, filling the house with the noise of their chatter.

"Hey, Hannah's trying to sleep." Brian said.

"What did the doctor say?" Guthrie asked, immediately worried.

"Bronchitis. She'll be fine, Guth. She's resting and so is Adam, so you all keep it down." Brian turned to head back outside where he'd been working. "Somebody stir that stew every now and then."

Guthrie watched Brian leave. "I had that once didn't I?" He asked Ford.

"I dunno. Probably. You got sick every ten minutes is the way I remember it." Ford told him. "Go start your chores before you decide to be sick too."

Guthrie shook his head, irritated with his older brother. Sometimes they acted like he was a stupid baby. He wanted to head upstairs and check on her, but knew that Adam would probably yell at him too. He tried to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He never liked it when anyone in the family was sick. It made him nervous, but Hannah being sick was the worst.

"Come on!" Ford said, his hand on the door. "We got chores, man!"

"I'm coming." Guthrie responded irritably. "Keep your pantyhouse on, Marge!" At least chores were better than that stupid essay he _still_ hadn't written. Maybe Ford had given a good idea - maybe he could be sick, too. Then he would have to face his English teacher and explain that he hadn't written the stupid essay at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Guthrie McFadden** did not sleep well that night, and awoke to the sound of pouring rain. "Perfect." He thought, dreading the day ahead. He trudged through the mud to the bus, trying to stay dry, but got soaked anyhow. He hung back from Ford and Evan who rushed ahead trying to get to the safety of the bus stop quickly.

"Aww, hell!" Evan said. "I forgot my math work!"

"Go back and get it." Guthrie said angrily.

"No way, stupid. I'm not going back out in the rain."

"The bus is here, anyway." Ford said. He glanced at his younger brother. "What's your problem, man? Feeling cranky?"

"I don't want to go to school today." Guthrie confessed.

"Quit whining." Evan said. "Geez, you are such a baby sometimes."

"Why not?" Ford asked him, ignoring Evan.

"It's just this stupid essay . . ." Guthrie began softly.

"Come on! Let's go! The bus is waiting!" Evan interrupted.

"Never mind." Guthrie said. "Let's go." And they all sprinted through the downpour to the bus.

***7***

 **Guthrie McFadden** hesitated in the hallway just outside his 2nd period math class. English was his 4th period class, and he was already filled with anxiety. It wasn't so much that essay wasn't done but the fact that everyone, absolutely everyone would make a big deal about the fact that his essay wasn't done. He remembered with clarity when he'd been upset in 2nd grade because his friend Kenny said, "You ain't got no mother for mother's day." He'd punched Kenny in the mouth, filled with a rage he hadn't understood. There had been ENDLESS meetings over that! Counselors, teachers, principals - everyone to help him "process" what had happened. He wasn't about to go through that again!

Truthfully, he had initially intended to walk to the school library and work on the essay until 4th period. He didn't go in though. He just walked past it; past all the buildings, and down the steps, across the empty football field, toward town. He didn't care that he was ditching school. He didn't care that he had no idea where he was going. He didn't even care that the rain had started up again. He just walked away.

***7***

"Look, who finally go out of bed!" **Crane McFadden** said to his sister-in-law.

"Don't tease." She said, sitting down at the kitchen table, wearily.

"You want something to eat?" Crane asked. "I can cook you up something? Soup?"

"For breakfast?" She asked.

"It's 10:45." He pointed out. "I'll fix you a bowl, and then back up to bed."

"Excuse me?" She glared at him.

"Listen, Adam left strict instructions, and you don't know this 'cause he's sweet on you, but his temper is legendary."

"I've heard." She sighed, and leaned on the table, resting her head on her arm. "I guess going back to bed isn't a bad idea."

"How do you feel?" Crane asked her, as he put a pot on the stove.

"I can breathe without coughing now, so better, I guess."

"Breathing's good." Crane chuckled.

"Did you see the boys off this morning?" She asked him, sitting up.

"Yup. They had lunches and everything. You know before you came, we used to run this place." He winked at her.

"Yes," She grinned up at him. "I saw the evidence of your housekeeping."

"Oh, that wasn't my jurisdiction." He explained.

"I don't think it was anyone's." She laughed lightly, but then began to cough. "What about Guthrie? Did he seem . . ."

"He seemed okay. If he's worried, he's worried about you, Hannah."

"I don't know about that, but . . ."

"Trust me. Guthrie is not that complicated of a kid. He adores you and you are sick. He is worried you are right, but it is about you."

"Okay, I guess you might be right." She smiled at Crane. "I'll talk to him when he gets home from school." She sighed and rested her head on her arms again. "Man, I don't know when I've ever felt so tired."

"You know, if you want, you can go back on up to bed. I'll bring the soup to you."

"That sounds nice. Thanks, Crane."

"No problem."

***7***

 **Ford McFdden** had looked for Guthrie at lunch because he wanted to switch sandwiches. He had ended up with peanut butter and grape jelly, so he figured that Guthrie had ended up with the strawberry jelly which Ford loved. He hadn't been able to find him everywhere. It seemed that every place he went, Guthrie had just left. He was irritated. He really hated grape jelly, and it was just that Guthrie hadn't paid attention when grabbing lunches because Guthrie didn't care what he ate. It was such a cold, wet day, and now his lunch was crummy too. He couldn't wait for the last bell to ring.

***7***

"I see you've decided to behave reasonably for once." **Adam McFadden** told his wife. He had come inside from a morning of chores to find her snuggled down in their bed; an unbelievable scene. "You must _really_ be sick."

"Actually, I'm faking it." She said to him, as he sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. "Look at the extreme measures I have to take just to get a day of rest."

"Well, about that . . ." He teased her. "The fellas really need you to go ahead and get moving on that laundry and those dishes won't wash themselves."

"You are kind of a jerk, Adam." She said, reaching out and taking his hand.

"I know." He agreed. He leaned over kissing her cheek. "And you _still_ have a fever. I'm calling that doctor. Those meds aren't strong enough."

"He said it would be few days, Adam. Try not to overreact."

"Remaining calm is not really my strong suit." He pointed out.

"This, I've noticed." She lay back on the pillows. "I feel so much better than I did, already. I think I was really sick."

Adam said nothing, but lifted her hand, and kissed her fingers, and she was hit with a flash of lying on a hospital bed, and him doing the exact same thing. She pulled her hand from his almost instinctively.

"Hey . . ." He began, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong? Do you feel worse?"

"No, uh . . . I guess I just got tired all of the sudden." She lied, rubbing her face with her freed hand. "Are the boys back from school?"

"Not for another hour or so." He told her. "But you don't need to worry about anything. We got it all covered. You should just sleep."

"Yeah, I guess you are right." All the cheerfulness of tone was gone now, and she could tell he was puzzled by the sudden shift in mood. She wished she had the ability and bravery to explain it. She knew it hurt his feelings when she turned suddenly cold.

"I should let you rest." He said, standing up. "I've got some more work to do. You need anything?"

She felt unexplainable tears sting her eyes. He was so loving and sweet. She hated the silence between them; the chasm created by their lost child.

"Hon?" He moved closer to her. "If you are feeling real bad, we should go back to the doctors or maybe the hospital."

"It isn't that." She said softly but gave no further explanation. "I . . . I'm sorry. Maybe it is the medicine or . . ."

"Oh." He said softly, after a long moment of studying her. "Sweetheart, it's . . ." He sat back down beside her on the bed.

"I don't know why I'm . . ." She wiped at her face. "I'm just tired and sick."

"You don't have to apologize; especially not to me." He said softly, his hand reaching again for hers. "Seems to me you ain't cried near enough - you never seem to stop and take care of yourself. You never give yourself a break."

"I'm taking a break, right now." She said, through tears.

"You've got bronchitis, Girl. That's not taking a break. That's a full body shut down because you _haven't_ taken a break."

"I just . . ." She hesitated, not wanting to bring him pain, but longing to be wholly open to him again. "I just feel sad sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah." He agreed softly, scooting closer to her on the bed. "I do."

They said little else, both lost in a shared grief. He understood and there was no need for more words. It was enough that he was here. She moved closer to him, her head in his lap. "I love you, Hannah." He said softly. He said it often; had said it often since they'd married, but lately he said it even more. Maybe he thought she needed the reassurance. And maybe she did, but she knew it to be true - could feel the truth of it down to the marrow of her very bones. It comforted her deeply and she fell asleep as he soothingly ran his fingers through her dark hair, humming softly as he did.

***7***

"Ford! Wait up!" Mike Robertson called as Ford ran to catch the bus home.

"What is it?" Ford paused watching for the bus out of the corner of his eye.

"I've got Guthrie's homework. Can you give it to him?" Mike asked.

"Did he leave it?" Ford asked confused.

"No. He wasn't in class. He was home sick." Mike said. "This is for our group project. I guess he is sick or whatever, but I don't want to fall behind."

Ford stood confused. "But he was . . .he came to school today. He wasn't sick."

"I don't know about that. But he wasn't in class today. I've got three classes with him, and he wasn't in any of them."

"That makes no sense."

"Maybe he went home. Maybe he got sick right when he got here." Mike offered. "Just give him that, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, Mike." Ford told him. He was so lost in thought, he almost missed the bus.

"Hey, genius." Evan said, as Ford sat down across the aisle from him. "You nearly missed the bus while standing right next to it."

"What?" Ford asked.

"What happen? A girl talk to you?" Evan laughed.

"Did you see Guthrie today?" He asked Evan.

"This morning at breakfast. Is he staying for the late bus?" Evan asked. "I'm not driving back for him."

"No. I don't know where he is."

"He probably stayed late for the stupid AV club. Isn't it on Thursdays?"

"Tuesdays, and Mike said he wasn't in class." Ford asked.

"Ha ha! If he's been cutting class, Adam'll hand him his ass! 'Bout time little Mr. Perfect gets cut down."

"Do you think he went home sick? Wouldn't they tell us if he did?"

"I don't know." Evan said.

"He was acting weird this morning, remember. He said he didn't want to go to school. He was worried about something."

"Oh, Jesus, _Grandma_! You've been too much time hanging around Crane. Listen, he probably cut class and went to hang out with Kenny or Mike down by the river. Don't get all twisted up over it. Man, he's fine."

"I don't know." Ford responded. "He's been weird the last couple of days."

"He's been weird since birth, Ford." Evan told him. "Calm down, okay. Everyone cuts class sooner or later."

"I never have." Ford said softly. He stared out the window of the bus into the gray afternoon. The rain was coming down in steady sheets. He sure hoped Guthrie was somewhere out in it.

***7***

 **Guthrie McFadden** couldn't quite pinpoint the moment when everything went haywire. Everything felt like it was piling up and steamrolling toward disaster. Maybe it started when his English teacher handed out the assignment, or maybe even before that when yet another stupid Father/Son picnic was mentioned and people glanced his way with looks of pity. He knew things started to get messed up when he saw Hannah lying in a hospital bed, or maybe it was seeing Adam leaning in the hallway just outside her room, sobbing. All he really knew was that for the last few days, it had become nearly impossible to take a breath. He couldn't remember the last time he'd really slept and it felt as if there was no way around the mess he was making of things. He'd cut class. He'd left campus without permission. He'd actually cut class. He was soaked to the skin, shivering and alone without any purpose or direction. He'd skipped an entire assignment, missed his afternoon chores, and no one in the family knew where he was. Hell, _he_ wasn't even sure where he was. He glanced around himself and coming face-to-face with the large sign in front of him, he recognized his accidental destination.

"Aw, shit." He muttered out loud. Things couldn't possibly be worse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ford McFadden** was hoping to see Guthrie as soon as he walked in the front door. He was nowhere around, though. He and Evan found Hannah on the couch in the living room with Adam nearby. She was sitting up with a blanket tucked around her. Adam was handing her a cup of soup.

"Eat it all." He commanded.

"Don't be bossy." She said, wilfully.

"Don't be stubborn." He said with a grin. "You look better already."

"I ought to! That medicine cost enough!" She said ever mindful of the bottom line.

"It's only money. We got tons of that." He said with a laugh tucking a wild curl behind her ear.

"You look better." Evan said smiling at her. He flopped down into the armchair across from the couch.

"Are you saying something about how I looked before?" She teased him. "You poor fellas got soaked?"

"It's raining buckets." Ford said, leaning against the arm of the couch.

"You should get out of those wet things. You don't want to get sick." Adam told his brothers.

"Where's Guthrie?" Hannah asked, glancing around the room.

"He wasn't on the bus." Evan reported.

"Did he stay late? Why?" Hannah asked, concern etched on her features.

"He didn't say anything to me." Ford said quietly. He glanced over at Evan who was glaring at him. He knew Evan didn't want to say anything about Guthrie cutting class. He had told him over and over again on the bus. "You can't rat out a brother, Ford. He just cut class. Don't turn this into a big deal." And he didn't want to turn it into a big deal - only he was starting to think that maybe it _was_ a big deal.

"What's going on?" Hannah asked. "Why is Evan looking at you like that?"

"He wasn't in class." Ford said quietly.

"You are such a jerk, Ford." Evan said, sitting back against the chair. "Where's your brother solidarity?"

"Knock it off, Evan." Adam said to his brother.

"He is showing brother solidarity. Adam, I told you - something is definitely wrong."

"Hannah, let's just wait." Adam turned toward Ford. "You sure?"

"Kenny said he wasn't in any of his classes." Ford told them. "He was acting weird this morning, too. He didn't want to go to school."

"Adam . . ."

"Sit and finish that soup." Adam commanded. "Let's not panic just yet. Every McFadden in this house has cut school one time or another." He glanced up. "Except you Ford."

Ford smiled. "I like school."

"This isn't just cutting school. I knew I should have made him talk to me! Did he say anything to you boys?" Hannah asked. "He's been quiet for a week or so."

"He's been worried about you." Ford said softly.

"That's true." Evan said. "He has ever since . . .well, it scared him some."

"You boys," She said softly. "I'm fine." She sighed. "Adam, this isn't good."

"He said he didn't want to go to school today. "There was something about a paper, I think. I could call Kenny and see if he knows anything."

"Oh, thank you, Ford." Hannah said, reaching out and touching his hand. "Maybe he knows more."

***7***

 **Guthrie McFadden** first reaction to the assignment was irritation. He already had an upcoming unit test in both math and history. He didn't need another assignment. Of course, when he really looked closely at the assignment, he understood that he might have a problem. In the beginning it was easier to pretend like it didn't bother him; that the whole thing was no big deal. He could see his teacher's eyes resting on him for a brief moment on the day he'd explained the assignment, and therefore, was not the least bit surprised when he tried to let him off the hook. Even his friends acted weird about the whole thing.

"So what are you going to write about?" Jack asked him.

"What's it to you?" Guthrie responded.

"Never mind." Jack had said shaking his head at him.

The whole thing was just ridiculous! It was a stupid English assignment and now here he was wet, cold, alone and completely stuck. He couldn't go home _now._ They would want to know where he had been and why he hadn't come home - it would be a horrible, messy disaster. Of course, he couldn't stay out forever. It was turning into one of the worst days he could ever remember.

***7***

"Adam?" Ford said from the doorway of the kitchen.

"Oh no!" Hannah said. "Get in here. You two aren't having some sort of quiet aside and keep me out of the loop. You get in here, Ford Michael McFadden."

Adam shrugged, and Ford sighed and went back into the living room.

"What?" Adam asked.

"It isn't . . . " He glanced at Hannah.

"I've got bronchitis," Hannah said. "Quit acting like I'm made out of glass!"

"It's just . . ." But just as Ford was about to explain, Brain and Crane came in the front door.

"I don't even care if we have a stampede, I'm not going out there again." Brian was saying. "Hey, nice job, big brother. You sit around the house with your girl, here, and we are out in the pouring rain."

"Hold up, Bri." Adam said, and turned to Ford. "What?"

"There was a paper due today."

"Oh, good grief!" Evan said. "He cut school because he never did his essay! I tell you what . . ."

"What's going on?" Brian asked, stepping into the room with Crane just behind him.

"Guthrie wasn't at school and he isn't home." Hannah said.

"He bailed because he didn't want to write a stupid paper." Evan said shaking his head.

"No, Evan," Ford said seriously. "It was the heritage report. You remember that."

"Oh, shit." Evan said, but glancing up said, "Sorry, Hannah."

"What's the heritage report?" She asked ignoring his cursing.

"How did we miss it?" Brian asked Adam. "They usually give us a heads up."

"Why do they keep doing that stupid assignment!" Ford asked angrily.

Adam put a hand on Ford's shoulder. "It's okay, Ford. We'll find him. It will be okay."

"What. . ." Hannah began.

"It is report they do in 6th grade." Brian explained. "It's basically a report on your parents, and it is not a McFadden favorite." He turned to Crane. "How did we miss it?"

"Guthrie never complains about anything." Crance shrugged.

"That's true." Hannah said softly. "Adam, this is . . ." She tossed the blanket off, and rose.

"Uh, where do you think you are going?" Adam asked her.

"I'm gonna get dressed. We gotta find Guthrie."

"Oh, no! You are gonna stay right here! It is pouring down rain and . . ."

"I'm not asking your permission, McFadden." She said sharply. "You boys get organized. I'll be right back." She left the room and Adam followed after her.

"Hannah, we are gonna talk about this, Girl."

"Ford, you and Evan stay here, in case he comes home. Tell Adam that Crane and I checked around the ranch."

"He probably just came home." Crane said. "You think he'd go up to the high country?'

"Maybe. Hey, Ford, go on up to my room and find that old rain suit of mine. You can give it to Hannah. It'll be too big, but it will keep her dry."

"Hannah can stay home. I want to go out and . . ." Ford protested.

"Hannah's not staying home." Brian said laughing.

"Hannah is not staying home." Crane agreed. "You boys stay here."

***7***

"You HAVE bronchitis!" Adam said in frustration, as Hannah opened the closet door.

"We aren't arguing about this." She said calmly. "This isn't a discussion. You don't get to say what I can and cannot do."

"Hannah, be reasonable."

"No!" She said sharply. "I'm not staying here while he is out there somewhere suffering!"

"You are the most frustrating woman I have ever known!"

"Whatever." She told him. "Hand me my parka, would you?"

He looked behind him to where her parka was thrown over a chair. He found himself handing it to her.

"Come on." She said to him. "Let's go."

"Fine." He followed her down the stairs, and out the door pausing only to accept the rain suit from Ford, and to grab two hats.

"You fellas stay here. Tell Daniel that we went toward town. If he wants to drive toward Angel's Camp - we'll leave it to him. Stay by the phone because everyone'll be checking in." He reached out and patted Ford's face. "He's gonna be okay, Ford. Sometimes it just pops up. There's nothing to be done, but help him through it."

They ran through the rain and climbed into the jeep. Adam sat behind the wheel and paused before turning the engine on. "I should've known."

"You can't know everything." Hannah pointed out. "And Crane's right, Guthrie doesn't complain about anything."

"You knew." He pointed out. "You have a fever and are sick as a dog, and you _knew_ something was wrong."

"He'll be okay." She told him, a hand on his arm. "You are right about that."

"I don't even know where to look." He sighed. "He could be anywhere."

"You know where he is, Adam." She said softly, suppressing a cough.

"I do?"

"Of course you do. Think about. He's upset, and has spent the last week wrestling with the past. Where would he go?"

"Oh, hell. You are right." He turned the engine over, and pulled out of the driveway. "I swear, Girl, I feel like a complete jerk. You know more about Guthrie than I do."

"No, I don't. Not by a longshot." She coughed. "Why didn't they tell us about the assignment? Mr. Whedon had to know it would bother Guthrie, and he's not the first McFadden to be in this situation."

"I don't know. Maybe he did. Evan, Ford and Guthrie all hate being different. They don't want anything to change for them. It bugs them."

They had reached the edges of town, but instead of driving down main street, he turned to the left, and sat at a stop sign.

"Adam . . ." Hannah said gently.

"Yeah, I know." He swallowed hard before turning and driving the jeep through the front gate of Blessed Hills Cemetery.

***7***

 **Guthrie McFadden** stood facing his parent's graves. He hadn't intended to walk here, and yet here he was. He hadn't been for years. He never felt the need. In the first years, they came by once a year and put down fresh flowers. He was always bored and confused by his brother's moods. He was just a little kid, and he hated the drive into town. Some of his brothers would be sad and others angry. It was never a fun day. They would pull him close and tell him stories, and then cry. It scared him.

He understood it better when he got older, but he still didn't like going there. It made him feel uncomfortable. Everyone around him was clearly upset, and yet he felt almost nothing. It was his secret shame - when it came to his parents he felt detached and confused. He had never admitted this to anyone. He couldn't. What would Adam and Brian say? It was his deepest and most important secret, and he would take to his grave.

The rain came down in steady sheets, but he didn't feel it. He was wet through to his skin, but he could only feel the beating of his heart which seemed to race ahead, and he couldn't hear the howling wind, or the sound of a jeep turning into the parking lot just to his left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Adam McFadden** felt a stinging, relentless pain as he looked out the window of the jeep and saw his baby brother standing alone soaked through, shivering and looking just about as miserable as anyone could look. There was no one else around which was understandable considering the weather. Adam pulled the jeep to a stop and sighed. The rain had let up a little, but still fell in steady waves.

"Jesus," He muttered softly, finding himself dangerously close to tears. "That poor kid." He undid his seatbelt and turned to climb out of the jeep.

"Wait, Adam. You better let me go." She said putting a hand on his arm.

"No." He told her. "I can . . ."

"It isn't that. Honey, he was two years old - not even that. What do you remember about being two?" Her tone was gentle and she kept a hand on his arm, but her words wounded him.

"Nothing." He replied, huskily. "I can't remember anything."

"Neither can he." She said softly. "He can't tell you that. He knows it would hurt you."

"Hannah," He ducked his head, trying to hide a tear that had escaped. "This isn't . . ."

"Oh, honey," She said reaching out and wiping away his tears with a soft finger. "Ten years is such a long, long time. Why don't you let me shoulder it for a minute, huh?"

He covered his face with his hands, unable to manage the wave of sorrow that washed over him. That she would love him so; that she would be sweet enough to love his brothers too - it seemed too much. He felt her fingers as she carded them through his hair, kissing his cheek.

"It's okay, Adam. I can do this for you."

"He's _my_ brother." He said mostly out of habit.

"What a lie." She said with a tender smile and he looked up at her perplexed.

"What does that . . ." He began, but she shook her head at him, letting it go for now.

"Wait here." She said, not answering his question. She stood beside the jeep for a minute longer, sliding into Brian's giant rain suit. Adam got out of the truck and knelt down, rolling the cuffs of her pants up. He stood in front of her for a brief second.

"Thanks, Girl." He said softly, kissing her forehead, and pulling the hood over forward so that it covered her head completely.

"No, problem, Rancher Man." She grinned at him and then turning from him, made her way across the cemetery where he is baby brother stood, broken and alone.

***7***

Seeing Adam's name on the tomb, always startled her, and caused her to suck in her breath. Her brain understood that it was his father buried beneath the earth, but it seemed so surreal. The name Adam Jackson McFadden chiseled in stone; it frightened her and she always, _always_ had to remind herself it was missing the Jr. Guthrie was staring at the ground in front of his feet, and didn't even look up until she spoke.

"Hey, Guth." She said softly. His eyes grew wide with surprise, and he glanced around. "Just me." She told him. "Although, Adam's over in the jeep." She pointed and he looked over and his face flushed with shame.

"You shouldn't be out in the rain. You're sick." He told her.

"Seems to me, you are in more trouble than I am." She moved closer, but he stepped away from her, and she put her hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay." She said just a step from him. "Listen, no one is mad at you, but we are all worried. This isn't about you being in trouble with _us_."

"I don't need everyone making a big deal." He said angrily. "It's just a stupid thing that . . . " He growled in frustration. "It wasn't that big of deal, okay? I wish everyone could just leave it alone!"

"Honey," She started to lift her hand but thought better of it. "You are in a little bit of trouble just now. You cut school and disappeared."

"Everyone cuts school now and again."

"You don't." She said softly. "Guth, I understand why you couldn't talk to Adam about it, but what about me? You can talk to me."

"You have enough." He told her, looking up and meeting her eyes. "You don't need me and my stupid problems piling on and . . ."

"It isn't stupid. And I don't care what else is going on, you matter to me. I hope you know that you can always talk to me."

"I know that, but things have been so tough lately and then you got sick. And at first I thought I could handle it. I didn't mean for all of this," He waved his arms around. "I didn't even mean to come here! I just didn't got to class and then I kept walking and walking!" He turned away from her. "Ah, hell! Hannah! Adam is right over there and you are standing in the rain! This is so bad!"

"We can fix it." She said to him, moving just an inch closer. "We can fix it."

"How?" He turned back to face her. "I can't . . . I can't . . ."

"Guthrie, listen, this is my fault. I knew you were upset and I didn't push it. I should have. You shouldn't have to be out here all alone. You shouldn't have had to do that assignment."

"You don't understand." He said, dropping his head in shame. "You are so . . . you feel badly for me, and if you knew, you wouldn't be."

"Oh, hon, why not? What have you done that is so terrible?" She asked him, relieved that when she put a hand on his arm he didn't pull away.

"It isn't that I don't want to do the assignment, Hannah. I can't." He kept his face down.

"Why not?" She asked softly.

"I don't . . . please don't make me talk about it. It isn't . . .There is no way that I can . . ."

The ache she felt for him was so raw and so real that it was overwhelming. She wanted nothing more than to soothe him - to somehow fix everything. In that moment everything in her heart longed for the power to travel backwards in time just long enough to keep a truck on the right side of a white line.

"Guthrie?" She said, pulling gently on his arm. "Hey, Guth, look at me." The rain had thankfully slowed to a light dusting of mist, and it made the air all around them shimmer like silver. "You know what my first memory is?"

He said nothing, but looked up at her through his long dark lashes.

"I remember riding my tricycle and crashing into a bush." His eyes met hers fully then. "I was five years old. That's as far back as I can remember, and I think the only reason I remember it is because I had to get stitches, right here." She pointed to a faint scar on her chin. "I don't remember anything before that."

"What . . ." He began but she continued, interrupting him.

"I do not remember anything from when I was two and certainly not younger than that. The earliest Adam can remember is being four and your father waking him up to watching a foal being born. Most people can only remember back to being four or five and then it is just little pieces of memories. No one can remember being two, Guth. No one."

"How do you know so much?" He asked in a whisper.

"Oh, Guth, it's because I love you so." She said smiling through tears. She reached out and lifted his chin, rubbing her soft thumb along his cheek which was ice cold.

"I can't remember anything." He confessed.

"Of course not. You were a baby."

"What am I gonna do? I can't . . . it will break Adam's heart."

"His heart is breaking right now to see you standing here alone and sad." She pointed out.

"I'm not alone." He pointed out.

"What you are is freezing." She reached out putting an arm around his shoulders. "Let's go home. I think it is time for you and Adam to talk."

"I don't know if I can do it." He told her.

"Of course you can. Guthrie he loves you so much and you will never be at peace until you do."

She began to move to the jeep, but he surprised her by pulling her into a fierce hug. He buried his head into her shoulder, and even though hugging him, meant she got soaked too, she didn't mind.

"You are cold as ice!" She said, kissing his cheek. "Come on, let's go home."

She led him by the hand to the jeep, where Adam stood waiting. He held a blanket in his hands and immediately wrapped Guthrie in it.

"Adam I'm so sorry . . ."

"That's okay, sport." Adam said hugging Guthrie to his chest. "We can talk about it, but let's go home."

"I'm sorry for dragging her out in the rain and . . ."

"Get in the jeep, Guth. Let's get her out of the rain." Adam pointed out. He took his jacket off, handing it to Hannah.

"Put that on." He shook his head. "Your lips are blue, hon."

They rode in silence away from the cemetery, Guthrie in the backseat wrapped up in a blanket, and Hannah wrapped in Adam's coat, clinging to her husband's hand even as he shifted gears.

"Don't worry about anything, Guth!" Adam finally broke the silence as the pulled up to the white house, "She would've gone after you if you were in a cave filled with rabid coyote."

***7***

Brian stuck his head in the boys' bedroom. "Everyone okay in here?" He asked.

"We are fine." Daniel said.

"Ford, I know that look. Buddy, it wasn't your fault."

"I should've . . ." 

"Read his mind?" Evan asked. "As soon as you knew, you told someone. And he'll be okay."

"He will." Daniel agreed. "Everyone in this house has been through this. Sooner or later you just got to face the truth of it."

"That's true." Brian leaned against the doorway. "It's just tough because it's Guthrie and we are all used to protecting him, but some things, well, you just can't protect folks from that."

***7***

 **Adam McFadden** paced in his room, when Hannah emerged wearing a pair of long johns and his pajama top. She was drying her wet hair with a towel.

"Your hair is still wet." He pointed out tersely.

"Yes, that's kind of how a shower works." She replied. "You are the one who insisted on a hot shower."

"Get in bed." He pointed.

"Where's Guthrie?" She asked running a brush through her wild curls.

"Crane was feeding him while you took a shower."

"You didn't talk?" She asked, surprised.

"He wanted to wait for you." He told her. "At least wrap up in the blanket."

"Let's go downstairs and . . ."

"No. Stay put. It's warmer up here. I'll go get him." Adam told her. "The blanket." He said pointing at the blanket folded on the end of their bed as he left the room.

He returned a few minutes later with Guthrie who wore a pair of sweats and a long sleeved t-shirt. Hannah immediately rose and enfolded him in a hug.

"Thank God!" She said. "You are warm! I was worried!"

"You were worried!" Guthrie said. "You should be in bed."

"Your brother already has the market cornered on that." She released him, and sat back down on the end of the bed and Adam wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

Guthrie sat in the lone arm chair in the room, tucking his legs up underneath himself, and Adam, grabbing a blanket from the closet, wrapped it around his baby brother.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do with the two of you." He said shaking his head. "Guthrie, I understand you were upset. But you should know by now that running away is no solution. I mean she's sick," He indicated Hannah. "And now she's been out in the rain and . . ."

"Whoa!" Hannah interrupted. "Adam sit down." She rose, tossing aside the blanket as she did. "Look at him." She waved a hand toward Guthrie who had shrunk down as Adam spoke. "Guthrie," She moved to stand beside him. "Hey, c'mon, you ever known me to do something I didn't want to do? You ever known anyone, including your brother over there, being able to stop me if I wanted to do something?"

"No, ma'am." He answered softly.

"Alright, then. No one in this room made me do anything. I do what I want, and I wanted to find you, and I did. So let's stop talking about the parts of this that are irrelevant and get to what's important." She turned to meet Adam's gaze.

"Fine." Adam responded testily. "I was just trying to point out that he knows better than running off and scaring you and . . ."

"I'm not the _only_ one he scared, Adam J." She sighed and turned back to Guthrie. "Guthrie, don't get distracted by his temper. You _know_ Adam. He is just trying to cover everything else up with anger. You scared him is all, and we both know that Adam angry is really just . . ."

"Adam scared." Guthrie finished and Adam was stunned by Hannah's beautiful smile.

"That's right." She agreed softly. "This is hard for him. He was so young and had so much responsibility. He didn't have to process everything, so feelings are difficult for him, you know that. But that doesn't mean he doesn't feel things. It doesn't mean you can't talk to him. You know how much he loves you."

Adam was glad he was sitting down on the edge of the bed. His wife was a constant source of amazement to him. It seemed sometimes that she could see inside the very chambers of his heart. He shook his head, trying to process everything that was happening.

"Guthrie, look I . . ."

"Hush." Hannah said to him, but her voice and eyes were gentle.

"You can do this Guthrie. Go ahead and tell him."

"Adam, I . . ." Guthrie began, anxiously. "This assignment was hard and . . ." He stopped and glanced at Hannah. "I can't do this."

"Oh, sweetheart, you can say it. I can do it for you, but I know you can do it. He already knows, and any hurt it gives him, isn't your fault." She kissed his forehead.

"What?" Adam said coming to stand beside her, concern etched on his features. "You can tell me, Guthrie. What is it?" His voice was softer now.

It was one of the first things she'd noticed once she'd recovered from the shock of his six brothers; every single one of them spoke to Guthrie in a special soft tone. It had melted her. She squeezed Guthrie's shoulder and sat down beside him on the arm of the chair, one arm around him protectively.

"I don't remember them." Guthrie began very softly. "I keep trying. I wanted to do the assignment, and I really thought I could, but then when I tried. I didn't have anything to write. I just don't remember anything at all." He hung his head, looking down at his feet.

His older brother crossed the room and knelt in front of the chair where Guthrie sat with Hannah beside him.

"Hey, Guth. You were such a little guy. You were so young. It's not your fault. I don't remember anything from being that little. It is no surprise, buddy. Of course you don't remember."

"I tried to." He said looking at his brother. "I tried really hard."

"I bet you did. You've got an iron will and when it comes to school, it sure seems like there's nothing you can't figure out. But this isn't something you can figure out or solve. It is as true as gravity. They are gone, and we were left behind. And you were too small to remember them. But you can trust me, pal. They loved you. They loved you with every bit of their hearts." He reached out and squeezed Guthrie's shoulder. "Mama used to sing to you every night - right here in this chair you are sitting in and you could hear just how much she loved you just from her voice."

"I thought, you'd be hurt, and it seemed like letting you down. I just didn't want to cause you pain. You've had enough and especially lately because of . . . And I. . ." Guthrie drew in a deep breath stifling his tears. "There's something else. I couldn't write it because it was . . ." He stopped unable to go on.

"Go ahead," Hannah encouraged, and Adam was amazed at her. It was as if she had some hidden key that could unlock Guthrie's secrets; could unlock _his_ secrets for that matter. "It isn't disloyal, Guthrie. Adam will agree with me. Come on, now. Things only have power over us while they are secret - speak it out and you'll be set free, hon."

"What are you . . ." Adam began, but Hannah shook her head at him. "Hush."

"I tried to write that stupid essay." He said. "That's when I realized that I couldn't remember anything and . . ."

"Well, . . ." Adam began but Hannah reached for his hand and shook her head at him.

"I mean I couldn't think of one single thing." Guthrie continued, his voice gaining strength. "Everything I tried to write was just a story someone told me." He sighed and they could hear all the pent up tears inside the sigh. "But then I did start writing. I told about that time when I broke my arm and was all the way up at the south pasture."

"I remember that. God that was awful. It must've took me six hours to find you." Adam said shuddering at the memory.

"And I wrote about that time, I wanted that stupid race track for my birthday, and you sold that engine you'd been working on rebuilding to get it for me. And that Christmas when I was six, and how no one wanted to get a tree, but you did - in the middle of night, in a snowstorm. I wrote about how I can always count on you, and how you let me sleep in your room - even when I was too old to be acting like such a baby because you knew I had nightmares, and didn't want me to wake up alone." He said nothing for a long minute and Adam held tightly to Hannah's hand. She squeezed his fingers gently.

"Guthrie," Adam said very softly, understanding.

"Every story I wrote was about you." Guthrie said quietly. "I know it isn't right, and it sure isn't fair to them, but really you're the only father I can ever remember. There isn't anyone else. Just you." Guthrie looked at his older brother shly.

Adam, who had been kneeling in front of Guthrie sat back on his heels, speechless. He looked to his wife, who sat beside Guthrie. She smiled at him, but she was crying and he realized that she had known what Guthrie had been going to say to him. She had known it before even Guthrie did and he wondered at it - how she could become so connected to all of them, understanding so much in such a short amount of time. His heart was filled with grief, love, compassion and thankfulness all at the same time.

He swallowed down tears and said, "It isn't disloyal. Hannah's right, Guthrie. They only ever wanted good things for you. They would be happy to know you had family. It would please them to know you weren't alone."

"I know you and Brian worked so hard to do right by them. I know they are really important to you guys, and they are to me, too, but not in the same way. I would never want to treat them wrong. I understand that I'm their son, but I'm your son, too."

"Oh, the only thing Mom ever wanted was for you to be loved and happy. If it couldn't be her and Dad . . ." He stopped unable to continue. "Thank you, Guthrie."

Guthrie smiled at Adam then and threw his arms around him. Adam held him tightly, kissing the side of his head. "I love you, Guthrie." He whispered softly.

"I love you too." Guthrie said. "You are a good father, and I'm sorry about that baby, Adam. I am so sorry. He would've been lucky."

Adam said nothing, shocked, and began to cry into his ,brother's shoulder, unable to stop himself. It took him a few minutes to regain his composure and then pushing Guthrie away from himself, he said gently. "I'm sorry you were suffering so, Guthrie. And I know things have been," He hesitated. "I know Hannah and me have been sad, but we are alright and there's no time that you can't talk to us."

"I know." He agreed, hugging Adam again. "You are a really good Dad." He said, but then turning toward Hannah, he continued. "You are good parents."

Hannah, who had crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed facing the two brothers, drew in a breath at his words.

"Okay, Guth, I think . . ."

But Guthrie cut her off, continuing "It wasn't just Adam I wrote about. I wrote about how, even on that very first day, when you were completely in shock about all of us, you made sure I had that last piece of bread - even though you must have been hungry. And how you sat by my bed when I had the flu, and sang to me when I couldn't sleep. How you are so sweet and good to me. And the way you always seem to know how I feel or when I'm upset."

Adam watched Hannah as she struggled to maintain control. He squeezed Guthrie's shoulder and releasing him, crossed to sit beside her on the bed. He put an arm around her protectively.

"I never had a mom." Guthrie continued. "At least not one I can remember. I've got Adam and Brian for Dad's but never a Mom. I didn't know what it felt like and you . . . I don't know. You always make everything better. You always seem to know what I'm feeling and I can't remember anymore what it was like before. And I am really sorry about the baby. I know I acted all weird about it, but it was just because I thought if you had your own baby, that I wouldn't matter as much - which is stupid, I know, but I just finally got a mom."

She nodded, crying and said softly, "Oh, Guthrie."

"I think mostly I was jealous, you know. The baby would have you every day of it's life. He wouldn't have to wait twelve years. It's dumb, and I'm sorry for it. I'm especially sorry because of what happened. I would love to have a baby brother or sister."

"You will, Guth." Adam said, leaning over and kissing Hannah's forehead. "And they'll be lucky to have such a good big brother to show them the ropes."

"I'm just sorry I worried everyone. I didn't want to make such a big deal out of everything." Guthrie told them. "I just wanted to be like everyone else, and then things got out of control."

Adam grabbed his hand and pulled him close to the two of them. "Hannah . . ." He said softly. "Hon?"

"I can't . . ." She struggled for control. "Listen to me, Guth. You will always, _always_ be my first son." She reached out her arms to him, pulling him close. "Always."

Adam put his arms around them both, and safe in his parents arms, Guthrie McFadden finally allowed himself to weep for the parents he never really knew.


	5. Chapter 5

**Adam McFadden** was not surprised to discover that Guthrie had pretty much cried himself to sleep.

"C'mon, little brother. I can't carry you downstairs anymore." He shook Guthrie who simply nodded.

"'Night Guth." Hannah said and Adam turned toward her. "In bed, now."

"Yes, sir." She said, adding a mock salute.

"Not even kidding." Adam told her. He rose with Guthrie half leaning on him. He kept his arm around his brother, guiding him downstairs.

"I'm super tired." Guthrie told him.

"I sort of figured that out." Adam said with a chuckle.

"You won't tell anyone I cried, will you?"

"Everyone cries." Adam admonished. "Men cry."

"Hey, there." Brian said as he guided Guthrie toward his pull-out bed.

"Guthrie's a little tired tonight."

The brothers tucked him into bed, as they had for many years. Leaving him to sleep in the small space that separated the kitchen from the living room. Adam flopped down on the couch and Brian sat across from him in the chair.

"Thanks for covering the other guys. Ford okay?" Adam asked.

"Oh, you know Mr. Worrier. He's Crane, Jr." Brian said. "He was convinced it was all his fault because he didn't pay attention."

"He's a good kid."

"Same old, same old?" Brian asked.

"Pretty much. Kind of a new twist though. He couldn't do that damn assignment because he can't remember them."

"Geez," Brian exhaled. "Kind feel like I just got kicked in the gut."

"That's damn straight." Adam agreed.

"He was just a baby, and we knew that he couldn't possibly remember but still . . ." Brian shook his head.

"Now that the last McFadden is through, they'll probably finally drop that God damned assignment."

"That would be typical." Brian agreed.

"How's the kid anyway?"

"He's okay. Didn't want to tell us because he knew it would make us really sad, and he couldn't talk to Hannah because . . ." Here Adam paused trying to determine the best way to express himself.

"Because she's broken hearted." Brian finished for him.

"Yeah, well . . ." Adam found himself incapable of speaking.

"Hey, brother, it's okay. Brian said. "Broken hearts are stronger, you know that. I am sorry as can be that things played out the way they did, but she'll be okay."

"Yeah." Adam said, nodding in agreement. "Thanks for all you've been doing - picking up the slack for me, and . . .I just wish . . ."

"Me, too." Brian agreed. "I kept thinking how happy Mom would be. Can you imagine?"

"Yeah, me too."

"It feels like it should be behind us, you know? Part of our history, but man there are some days when I come in that front door, and I wish that she was in the kitchen making cookies and asking me all about my day. Remember how she always did that?"

"Yeah, or I go out to the barn and expect to see Dad in his office." Adam agreed.

"Guthrie has that now." Brian pointed out.

"What?" Adam looked up at his brother in confusion.

"Guthrie. He comes home from school and she's always making him some snack - him and Ford, and Evan. She makes them tell her all about their day. She helps Guthrie with his homework. They have that too." He rose out of the chair and sat down on the edge of the coffee table separating them. "You might screw up a lot of things big brother, but this one thing you got perfectly right. I was a damn fool for acting like I did when you brought her here. She gives them all something you and I can never give them - hard as we might try. She's a good Mom to them, and someday, she'll be a good mom to your own kids."

"Oh, I hope so." Adam somehow managed to take in a gulp of air.

"I know so. God wouldn't make a woman that loving and sweet and deny her children of her own. You just got to be patient. Mom always said you were in too much of a big damn hurry."

"Thanks Brian."

"Aw, Jesus! Don't get all mushy on me." Brian said, rising and turning away. "I'm gonna go check on that calf. I don't trust that vet assistant. Good night."

Adam hesitated a moment before rising to go upstairs. He listened to love the silence of the house. When his parents had first died, the silence reminded him of what was missing. His brothers were tucked in bed asleep and he and Brian were alone. It seems that the quiet house was filled with the emptiness of it. Over time, he'd come to enjoy it as his only time without responsibilities. He could sit and daydream or just goof around trying to watch something on their tiny black and white tv. He recognized that somewhere along the line he had shifted from older brother trying to make due, to an adult grateful for a few minutes peace before the next day dawned.

***7***

"Congratulations on probably graduating to pneumonia." Adam said as he climbed into bed beside his wife.

"Really, after a day like today, this is what you are going to open with?" She asked him. She was nestled down under the covers, her cheeks flush with fever.

"I don't know. I'm exhausted and drained. I was thinking about being angry with you, but then you were so damn sweet to my baby brother. I don't even know what to feel."

"Maybe you should just sleep then." She pointed out. "You don't have to talk about _everything_."

"You are saying this? You? Little miss Can-We-Talk-About-This-for-Two-Hours?"

"First of all, Mr. By-The-Way-I'm-Raising-My-Orphaned-Brothers-and-They-Live-With-Us, you shouldn't pick on me, I'm very sick and secondly, it is MRS."

"A fair point. Although that surprise brother thing is getting kind of tired. I don't think you can use it for years on end."

"I can, I am and I will." She said stubbornly. "Guthrie asleep?"

"Yup. Poor kid. I'll let him stay home tomorrow."

"Good." She agreed.

"Hey," He said, pulling her into his arms so that she rested against his chest. "You called me a liar today. What did you mean?"

"I didn't call you a liar. I said that you saying he's your brother is a lie."

"Oh."

"He's your son. Him, more than any of the others. You are his father, and such a good one, too. He looks up to you, and is always so pleased when he pleases you. It is the sweetest thing, Adam. He loves you so. And I know you hate it when they call you Dad, but it _is_ who you are."

"Well," He had nothing left in him to process this tremendous compliment.

"And maybe that's enough," She said, causing him to turn and look at her. "Maybe I was just meant to mother them. It's enough. I don't need to . . ."

"Honey, wait. You don't need to . . . Baby, you heard what the doctor said, right? This isn't a closed door."

"I know. I just . . . it feels like I let everyone down - like I let you down."

"No, sweetheart. I'm the one who left you alone when I knew you weren't feeling good and . . ."

"That's not even . . ."

"Alright, hold on." Adam said. "Listen we aren't going to do this, okay? This isn't your fault, and there's nothing that we could have done differently - not that would have changed the outcome. Alright? There's no blame and no guilt, and you didn't let anyone down."

"My brain knows it, but my heart's a little slower." She said.

"I know honey. I'm sorry."

"You've got nothing to apologize for."

"I'm sorry all the same. It . . . I can't . . . my heart aches to see you hurtin' so." He said softly, kissing her forehead.

"Me, too." She agreed. "I hate that this gives you pain. You've hurt enough."

"You too." He pointed out.

"Well, we're a mess aren't we?" She said trying to smile through tears. "I keep thinking it won't hurt any more but . . . and it is stupid. It was nine days. Nine! It's not like we had months to . . ."

"Hey, it is a big deal. You nearly died for one thing, and that part of it . . .I can't even think about it. But nine days or not, that baby was ours, and we loved it and you have a right to mourn it."

"Yeah" She agreed shakily, and drawing in a deep breath added, "I hope we will have our own baby, Adam. I really do."

"Me, too. But listen Girl, you remember everything the doc said, not just the hard parts - he said there's no reason we can't have a baby someday. We can, and we will."

"You believe that?" She asked him, hope in her voice.

"I do."

"So, I guess we wait."

"We wait, and here's what we do. We raise the ones we have while we wait to see who joins us later? I mean I know I never asked you before, but would you be willing to help me raise my brothers? Most of them are grown, but we got a couple left that could use some mothering."

She laughed at this, despite her tears. "Well, seeing as how I am a year in, I guess I could make that commitment."

"Aw, Daniel's right about you, you are a peach." He kissed her forehead. "Baby, I swear I don't know what I would do without you, I really don't. So, tomorrow you are staying right here in this bed. I don't care how many of my brothers have how many crisis. You stay out of it."

"No promises." She told him.

"Typical." He sighed in resignation. "You are completely untamable. I guess it's a good thing I am fond of wild things."

"I guess so." She agreed, closing her eyes and drifting to sleep. Adam stayed awake long after she slept, keeping vigil on her fever, but remembering the days when he was himself wild and carefree, running across his father's ranch to come home to his mother's sweet embrace.


	6. Chapter 6

**Guthrie McFadden** sat down on the side of his older brother's bed. His sister-in-law sat in the middle of the bed holding a book in her hand.

"You can put the book down. Adam told me you've been sleeping all day." Guthrie told her.

"He exaggerates." She said, but set the book on the bed beside her. "So, what did you decide to do?"

"Is it pneumonia?" He asked.

"Listen, I really wasn't feeling well for weeks and . . ."

"Man, I'm really sorry." He told her.

"For what?" She asked him.

"If you hadn't been out in the rain . . ."

"Guthrie, did you or did you not 'accidently' bring an entire bucket of mud into the living room two days ago?"

"I _explained_ that already and cleaned it all up! Why do you have to bring it up?"

"Because _that_ is something that you did and was your fault and you apologized for. _This_ has nothing to do with you - not really. You don't have to apologize or feel guilty for my being sick."

"Well," Guthrie said, relaxing slightly. "I'm sorry just the same. I am sorry you don't feel great."

"I'll live." She smiled at him, and turning toward the doorway where her husband stood leaning, "And I am already feeling better - despite your brother's dire descriptions."

"Me?" He held a hand to his chest. "What did I do?" He moved into the room and sat on the bed beside Hannah.

"Guth, you still haven't told me, what did you decide?" Hannah asked, resting her head against her husband's shoulder.

"Well, you were right. It was better to get it over with right away. I went straight to Mr. Whedon's class, and after he apologized for fifteen minutes, I was able to explain things."

"What did you say?" Adam asked.

"Oh, that it wasn't his fault and that, maybe in the long run, it was a good thing. Actually, I told him it was a good thing. I mean, except for Hannah getting so sick, it was stuff that I probably needed to think about." He shrugged his shoulders. "You think?"

"I think anything that makes you feel better, is good." Adam said.

"In that case, a color tv would make me feel great!" Guthrie grinned up at his older brother.

"Nice try." Hannah laughed.

"It's worth a shot." Guthrie agreed. "Anyway, I gave him the paper I wrote which I think he's gonna accept and that's it."

"You wrote a paper?" Adam asked.

"Yeah." Guthrie said. "It wasn't _exactly_ the assignment, but it was a paper."

"Can we see it?" Hannah asked.

"Sure." Guthrie shrugged. "I still have the rough draft but it's pretty much the same as the one I turned in. I'll go get it." He jumped up and left the room.

"How do you feel?" Adam asked Hannah.

"I do feel a lot better. I just feel tired and every time I try to get up, I get dizzy."

"Well, maybe you should stay in bed then - like I've been saying."

"Don't get all bossy, Rancher Man."

"I'm just saying that maybe, just maybe I'm right for once." He told her.

"I guess it's possible." She agreed.

Guthrie returned with a crumpled notebook page. He smoothed it against his chest and handed it to Adam. "There's one other thing," He told them.

"What?" Hannah asked.

"I have to see the school counselor tomorrow." His shoulders sagged. "Why do they have to make such a big deal out of everything?"

"It's just a little check-in, Guth. No big deal." Adam told him, reaching out and ruffing his hair. "You know they just want to be careful."

"I blame Crane. Man, that was like a zillion years ago! Why do I have to suffer because he took off?"

"Easy there, cowboy. Those were some tough days for Crane, and for the rest of us too."

"What?"

"Crane ran away when he was fifteen. He was upset and tried to call home, but the school office ignored him - so now they go out of their way to make sure they pay attention to us McFaddens." Guthrie explained.

"Oh, poor Crane. . ." Hannah said.

" _Guthrie . . ._ " Adam complained. "She's gonna worry about something that happened forever ago!"

"I was just explaining . . ." He lifted a hand.

"Easy there, fellas," Hannah interrupted the argument. "I'm fine! It just is a little sad to hear about. I mean, I wasn't here then, and it is just so sad to think of him hurting so much."

"See." Adam said, gesturing toward Guthrie.

"It's not my fault she's got an overdeveloped sense of mushiness." Guthrie said.

"I do not." Hannah object.

"Honey, you kind of do." Adam said.

"You do, Hannah." Guthrie agreed. "And ANYWAY," He emphasized the last word, hoping to avoid an extended argument. "So, I have to see the counselor, but I swear to you, if she makes me write a letter to my younger self again - I'm not doing it! I'm just gonna reuse the one I wrote last year."

"That seems reasonable." Adam said, surprising Guthrie. "Anything else?"

"Brian said Marie dropped off some soup for Hannah, and I'm supposed to ask if she wants some." Guthrie said. "Do you?"

"That sounds good." Hannah said. "Thanks."

"I'll go tell him to heat it up." Guthrie stood awkwardly for a minute. "You can come with me, tomorrow, Adam. - To see the counselor, I mean." He looked down at the floor. "I mean, they said you could, if you know, you wanted to, and if I wanted you too."

"Do you?" Adam asked softly.

Guthrie shrugged. "I guess."

"I guess, I'll go then." Adam smiled at him.

"Thanks." Guthrie sighed, clearly relieved. "I'll go get your soup, Hannah."

"Thanks, Guth."

He left them and Adam settled back against the pillows again, as Hannah reached for the paper in his hand.

"That boy, Adam, I swear." She said softly.

"Hannah Joy, don't start." He nodded his head at the letter. "What's it say?"

***7***

No Orphans Live Here

By Guthrie McFadden

Sometimes you don't actually notice things - even when they are in front of you every day. I never noticed that all my school papers listed me as an orphan. I didn't really pay attention to the fact that the word "parent" was crossed out on my file. It wasn't anything I really thought about for a long time.

I guess I was in the second grade the first time I really paid attention to it, but it wasn't because of something I noticed. It was because another kid pointed it out to me. We were making those little pots of flowers we used to make for Mother's Day, and the kid sitting to my left said, "Who you gonna give that to? You ain't got no mother?"

It was true, but it made me angry, and I couldn't even understand why. I got so mad, I actually hit him in the face and had to go to the principal's office. The weird thing was that when I explained what happened, I didn't really get in trouble at school. Everyone got this sad look on their face and asked me to sit down and talk with a counselor.

My brother Adam was mad, though. He said he wasn't going to have any brother who went around hitting people for no reason whatsoever. He took away my toy cars for an entire week, and I was really sad about that! That's the way Adam is, though. He's got high expectations about how he wants me to act.

My oldest brother isn't just my oldest brother. He is also my Dad - which makes us sound like some crazy soap opera family, but it is really true. Adam has taken care of me for as long as I can remember. I don't remember anyone else, but him and my brother Brian. They raised me. When I was five, no one in my family wanted to get a Christmas tree. We had a tough year, I guess, and everyone was sick of how hard Christmas was every year, but I wanted one so badly, that Adam went out in a snowstorm at night and got one for us.

When I was eight I decided to go riding by myself, which I wasn't supposed to do, but for some reason I did it anyway. My horse got spooked and I got thrown, and I broke my arm, but I was miles from home and scared. It seemed like I was lost and alone for hours, when I saw Adam riding up to me. I bawled like a baby when I saw him, and I was so happy to see him. He jumped off his horse and ran to me, and took me to the hospital and sat with me while I got x-rays and a cast. He took good care of me, and tucked me into bed that night. I felt so safe, and was so glad he'd found me.

I don't remember my actual father. I was not even two when he died. I've seen pictures and all my brothers have told me stories about him, so I feel like I know who he is - or at least what kind of man he was. But I haven't been without a Dad - not really. Adam taught me to ride a horse, tie my shoes, how to count, and how a man should behave. I don't see any difference between him, and my friend's dads.

Sometimes, though, Adam surprises me. Last year, he did that. He came home one Saturday with this really pretty girl, and told us he'd gotten married. Can you imagine it? We were all shocked that was for sure, and the next thing I know there is an actual lady living in our house. I didn't know what to think, but it turned out to be one of the best things he ever did. My sister-in-law is really great. She is probably the best cook you've ever met, and she laughs all the time, and she always seems to have time for me. I don't know what it is like to have a mother, but I'm thinking that having Hannah at home is the closest I'll ever get. She takes care of me and helps me with my homework. Sometimes it seems like she can read my mind. She's really good at knowing what I'm feeling, and helping me out when something is bothering me.

The other day, I looked up the word "orphan" in the dictionary, and of course it said something about not having parents who are alive, but it also has a secondary definition. It says "without protective covering or care". That sure doesn't describe me.

No parents live in my house. I live with my six brothers, and my sister-in-law. We've got more family than most, and I may not understand everything there is to know, but I am sure of this one thing: No orphans live here.

***THE END***


End file.
